Laziness
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: In which being sloth-like can be the root of all evil, but also, occasionally bring about great recreational activities. - One-shot, post Ten Commandments arc.
"I feel as if you expect me to polish your armor."

"Why would you feel such a way?"

"I do not know. I feel as if it is something that women do for Holy Knights."

"You're not a woman, Margaret."

"Gee, thank you, Gil."

"I mean that you're not just a woman," he corrected with a slight grin. "You're a princess. And besides, believe me, I could get a woman to polish my armor, if I wished."

"If you wished."

"I could have many women." Then, still grinning down at his plate, he added, "If I wished."

"Mmmm."

"In fact, I probably-"

"It was funny the first time and progressively less the second. Do you truly wish to try for a third?"

Lifting his head then, it was to her that he showed his grin. "And ruin this nice dinner? Of course not."

"I do not know how nice it is," she remarked, staring then down at her own plate as well. "It's quiet, at the very least, with only the two of us."

Gilthunder nodded then, seated across from her in one of the royal dining halls. "It is part of what makes it a nice dinner, I thought."

Margaret bowed her head then, just a bit. "I did not mean that I am not enjoying it, Gil. I just meant-"

"Compared to the dinners we'd recently had," he agreed softly, "it is rather boring."

That was true enough. After defeating the Ten Commandments, the Sins as well as their other companions had arrived back in Liones, where they'd stayed for some time, leaving many different people in and out of the palace that attended dinners (Hawk, actually, attended them all, as well as any luncheons and breakfasts he could have). With Elizabeth and Veronica around, as well as the formers companions, Margaret had very little time to spend with Gilthunder.

So yes, it was nice, to finally be alone together.

Just...a tad stuffy.

"It's not boring, Gil." Margaret shook her head a bit. "And given that I'm sure you'll be so busy we won't get this again for some time-"

" _I_ will be busy?"

"That is what I said."

"I find you to be far more busy typically than I am," he remarked. "My Princess."

"Hardly."

"Far more."

"Not even close." Then she paused. "Although, you do find the time to clean your armor-"

"Is there a problem, Margaret?" he asked, cocking his head a bit. "With my armor? Do you not like it? Is that it?"

"Of course not." Then, with a slight smile, she said, "I have only been trying very hard to hint at you just how filthy your armor is without coming out and saying it. I thought if I mentioned the free time you had to clean it-"

"Filthy?" He dropped his fork to look down at himself. "It is not-"

"It is scuffed, Gil. In many places. It is not befitting of a Holy Knight to walk around the capital in such a state."

"It is a badge of honor. Proof of my many battles and-"

'It is _lazy_ ," she corrected. "Scars can be a badge of honor. You not finding the time to polish your armor-"

Gilthunder laughed then, finally, cutting her off. Margaret's smile only grew as she stared over at him.

"Why is it funny?" she asked, though she was suppressing her own laughter. "Is it not true, Gil? That you are being lazy?"

"I hardly find it lazy, Margaret, to be so busy that-"

"You were free enough for this dinner."

"I made time for this dinner. You do not think there were other things I could attend to?"

"Of course there was," she agreed. "Like polishing your armor."

Gil reached out then, for his cup of wine, shaking his head, just a bit, at the woman. "Perhaps if I had a woman to do it for me-"

"You've done fine with it all these years."

"That was before I found out that women were supposed to be doing the polishing. I thank you for this bit of intelligence."

"Perhaps then, I will just have to put my status aside and do it for you."

That got him to stop laughing. With a shrug, he said, "I can do it, of course, Margaret. Either that or have some lowly knight take care of it for me. That is, after all, one of the benefits of being high ranking, is it not?"

"It is not."

"My dear Princess, surely you know your own knights better than that."

"I think I know my knights very well, Gilthunder. Perhaps too well."

And that would always be rather sore of a subject between them, regardless of how faultless it was for both of them, and he looked off, coughing, while she only blushed, having spoken without much thought.

They were both silent there, for a good while, before Gilthunder said, "I have been lazy, I suppose. About tending to my armor."

"Busy, I'm sure. Lazy was too harsh a word for me to-"

"It was as good a word choice as any," he told her. "Since returning from my...atonement, I have been far too lenient on myself. I've indulged myself far more, perhaps, than I should have."

"Indulged?"

Nodding, he said, "When we were out there, finding our penance, I had many fewer conveniences." It was with a slight smile that he added, "Not to mention you."

That made her glance back at him. "I am an indulgence?"

"The time I spend with you is, at the very least."

Sitting up straighter then, she said, "Not all indulgences are bad, Gilthunder. At times, they are the only thing that keep people from growing bitter."

"I could never grow bitter," he remarked. "Not as long as I serve in your military, Princess."

They both went their own separate ways after their meal. It was with a kiss to her cheek when no one was around to see that Gil told Margaret goodbye, whispering in her ear a certain time, later that night, at which he would see her again.

"Until then," she agreed with a soft smile to which he only nodded.

And he shocked her, some hours later, when he entered her chamber still in his armor. Not that it disappointed her, of course, as, in need of a good buffing or not, his armor was by far his most attractive attire.

Not to mention cool to the touch as the two embraced, he resting her head against his chest.

"You're late," she whispered as he only nuzzled his nose into her lavender hair. "Though I suppose I should be glad you decided to _cosse_ _t_ yourself."

"Tell me your mind is not leaving you so soon, my Princess." He stared down at her with a teasing smirk. "That you have already forgotten the word was indulgence."

"I was educating you, rather."

"You feel as if my noesis is lacking?"

"I did before you used the word noesis. Now I feel as if I am lacking."

"You," he sighed as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "are lacking in absolutely nothing."

"Mmmmm." Staring up at him then, she asked, "Are we going to stand out here all day?"

He glanced around her empty sitting room. "I assumed we'd spend some time out here. Tell me you are not already leading me off to your bedchamber."

"And I hope you tell me it is not too presumptuous if I am."

"Of course not." Grinning, he said, "In fact, it's rather welcome."

In certain ways, at least. In many, it was still rather nerve wracking. He felt like the closer they grew, the more risk became involved. It was not unknown to anyone, honestly, that the two were rather attached to one another, but it certainly wasn't to be made overly public just how far into a relationship they'd ventured.

She was, after all, still Liones eldest Princess and, therefore, one day to be Queen. Regardless of what the future held for the two of them together, the present had very clear lines drawn. Ones that they were becoming far too comfortable clambering over.

But Margaret wished to talk, that night, more than usual when she, almost lethargically, stripped him of his armor, being rather careful with it. She was worried about Elizabeth and Veronica, who were both out of the capital, the former with the Sins doing gosh knows what and the latter off with Griamor and Hauser, doing just about the same. Gil was the last in the capital, it seemed, and he was certain that worried her too; it was only a matter of time before he too disappeared once more, leaving her to deal with all the duties of her position while the others all abandoned theirs.

Not that she said any of that. Not in true words. Mostly just spoke around it. He listened, however, and when she finished with his armor, she started on what he wore beneath.

"I always knew how much Veronica disliked being so stationary," Margaret remarked with a sigh, "but Elizabeth… I know that there is no safer place for her than with Sir Meliodas, but she is just so...naive. About everything. You know?"

"That Elizabeth is naive? Yes, I know that very well."

"Gil."

"What?" He raised his arms as she pulled the shirt over his head. "I honestly do not wish to speak of your sister currently, Princess. Or think about her, for that matter. Or anyone. Other than you."

"It is not good to lie to your future queen, Gil."

"I am not. I never think of your sister when we are-"

"That," she told him as, to his amusement, she started on his pants, "was not the part I was calling into question."

"Hmmm." Dropping his hands, he said, "Certainly you are not questioning whether or not I choose to think of you, the Princess of Liones, or any other person on the planet...are you?"

"Am I?"

He chuckled as his pants dropped and she was still just standing there, grinning up at him. "I might not know if that's what you're implying or not, but I do know that somehow I've found myself in a far more precarious situation than you. By far."

"Perhaps I am just more attentive to your needs than you are to mine."

"Is that so?"

"Is it?"

"I do not think so." And he reached out then, gently cupping her face in his palms. "And I would hope you do not either."

And she laughed for some reason, but she was always laughing at the silly faces that he made (that, somehow, only she managed to realize), so he only chuckled along with her before slowly moving to lead her over to the bed finally.

If anything was over indulgence, it had to be Margaret's bed. It was beyond comfortable. And, when all was said and done and he relaxed into it, he felt as close to content as he ever had.

She laid away from him, just a bit, but that was fine, as Gilthunder was long used to it. It gave him a better chance to look at her, anyways.

"Here." Turning on his side, just slightly, at one point, he reached over to gently rub the pad of his thumb over her cheek. "You got something right-"

"I think it's your drool."

"I don't drool, Margaret. That's for toddlers." He grinned at her. "I slobber."

"Right. So you are not a toddler then, but rather a dog."

"Exactly."

He'd more than messed up her hair at some point and, continuing on in his aid, he reached out to smooth it down some, stroking gently after a few times running his hand over her head.

"You're over indulging again."

"I know." He chuckled, leaning his head forwards then, falling just a bit as he rested his forehead against hers. "I can't help it though."

Margaret rolled over as he fell some more and then he was mostly over her once more, the hand on her cheek falling to the side. Just as quickly, it was moving to ghost over the one she had laid on the bed, his fingers falling into the spaces between hers.

"Gil."

"Hmmm?"

"Don't go," she whispered as he bowed his head, keeping his hand interlaced with her as he rested it in her neck. "Tonight. Stay."

"I can't stay forever, Princess."

"You don't have to." She shut her eyes. "Even I wouldn't do that."

"Maybe not the whole night." He let out a slow breath as her free fingers moved to run through his hair. "I only do not wish to cause either of us...unpleasantries."

"Surely there are other things more unpleasant than being seen leaving my chambers at an ungodly hour."

"There are. Many. For me," he said. "But not for you."

"Is that right?"

"It is."

"I think being found with a Holy Knight would almost be expected of a princess. A right of passage."

"What right of passage is this then? That I have not know about? This entire time my focus was supposed to be in deflowering princesses and I had no-"

"Gil."

He lifted his head, just a bit, to grin sleepily at her. "I like it when you say my name in such a way. It's comforting."

"You're comforting."

"How?"

"Just in general."

"Is that what you need me for tonight? Comfort? Can't sleep without me?"

"Something like that."

"That's a dangerous habit to form, Princess." And he was shifting away from her, their hands unclasping as he rolled off, onto his back once more. "Such an attachment to a knight."

"I've never been able to sleep while you're away." Staring over at him, she asked, "Can you?"

"It is easier for me," he admitted. "I worry a great deal about you constantly. Whether I'm by your side or not. You're no safer with me than without. I've more than grown accustomed."

"Do not sell yourself short, Gilthunder. There's no one I have ever felt safer with." Then she smiled. "And you only grow stronger every day."

"I can only hope."

There was something about just lying close to Margaret, not even touching, that made it easier to drift off. Nothing came close to just the thought of her being so close. That if something were to happen, he was right there, right with her, to ward of whatever might befall them. Even without armor or his weapon, which laid over with the discarded armor, and in the nude, Gilthunder would fight to the death with his bare hands if he had to.

Then again, it was more or less his duty as a Holy Knight. So maybe it wouldn't seem as courageous an act of love as he would mean it to be, but deep down, even with honor and duty stripped away, he'd still die for Margaret. And her family.

In many ways, they and his fellow knights were all that mattered.

He was usually so good about it, awakening once more in an hour or so after Margaret drifted off, but he had, truly, been working rather hard at training and rallying the knights and figuring things out back in the capital. It was far too relaxing, being around Margaret.

Or maybe he truly was just growing lazy.

It wasn't dawn, anyhow, when he awoke. However, when he glanced to his side, Margaret was gone. For a moment he only lied there, dazed, before slowly he sat up. He was more concerned then with the fact it was getting late (or, rather, early) and he had to depart sooner or later. Not to mention he'd have a busy morning that would be starting in a few hours.

So, Margaret or no Margaret, he had to get out of there.

He was planning to, until he found his armor was missing from the place Margaret had set it. His clothes were still there and, hastily pulling them on, he stumbled out into the sitting room outside of her bedchamber only to stop short when he found her there, seated on the floor with his armor spread out in front of her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, startling her a bit as she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Margaret?"

"Oh, Gil," she breathed as he came closer, taking in first the slip that she had, well, slipped on, before his armor. "I didn't mean to wake you. I-"

"You didn't. I was...I was getting up anyways." Standing over her then, he whispered, "What are you doing?"

"I thought I would surprise you." She didn't move to get to her feet, rather only began to do as she was when he walked in. Running a rag of some sort over the breastplate of his armor. "And get this done."

For a moment, Gilthunder didn't know what to say. Then, slowly, he asked, "In the middle of the night?"

"When else could I have taken it from you without you noticing?"

Slowly, he moved to get on the floor with her as well. Reaching over to gently take the cloth from her, he said, "Did you do this as a favor to me? Or because you were tired of my armor appearing, what was it? Filthy?"

He was leaning over so, when she turned to look at him, their eyes were just about level. "It can be a bit of both, can't it?"

Chuckling to himself, he said, "I think you're forgetting, Margaret, what we established over dinner."

"That you're lazy?'

He didn't even give her a look for that one. Just corrected, "That you are the Princess. And not just a normal woman."

"Mmmm," she agreed as she cocked her head to the side, just a bit, and her lilac hair fell just right, over her eyes. "But I thought I was your woman?"

And his breath caught, just a bit, before he laughed again and leaned forwards more, closing the distance between them. Just as quickly he was breaking the kiss, just so he could whisper against her lips, "You are." One hand came up to gently stroke her pale cheek. "You most definitely are."

They were more out in the open there though, in the sitting room, and Gilthunder only stayed for a bit longer before he left Margaret, though it was after, upon her insistence, that he allowed her to finish his armor.

Quite honesty, he thought that she'd done a terrible job, but he refused to say anything other than praises of the great job she did.

Of course, rather than going to bed that night when he departed, he spent much of the time before dawn polishing his own armor until it shined, only to brag it up to most everyone he knew that it was such a wonderful job that _Margaret_ had done. And weren't they so lucky then, that their Princess, their future Queen, was so skilled in an assortment of things?

Then again, polishing armor wasn't much of a skill, but most everything that Margaret did, in his eyes, qualified as such. And honestly, calling the man out on that was the last thing anyone would ever dare to do.

* * *

 **I don't know why this is my favorite ship out of all of the others, but it is. Margaret and Githunder are just so cute to me (even though they probably have very little scenes together).**


End file.
